A Fake Life
by Fantasyandromancelover
Summary: After the American Civil War ended, Confederate solider Homer Jay Simpson was left with nothing. No home, no family, no money, absolutely nothing. However he soon learns that he has a deceased half brother who looks just like him and decides to pass himself off as his brother and live his life but things get complicated when he falls in love with his brother's fiance Marge Bouvier.
1. Chapter 1

May 11, 1865.

The American Civil War had ended, the states of both North and South had be united as one whole nation under God and slaves had finally been freed. Though many lives were lost in this war and for some who had survived would be going home to be reunited with their families who had been praying for their safe return. But then there were those who had survived but they didn't have anything to go back to. One of which was Confederate solider Homer Jay Simpson.

He was twenty years old, in perfect health but had absolutely nothing to return to. No home, no family, and no friends. His mother had died when he was just a child and his father had died of a heart attack while he was away at war. He and his father Abraham "Abe" Simpson were never real close. He was always very rough with him and he had been prepping Homer for war ever since he was five. He decided to go back to the old farmhouse where he had grown up in to see if his father had left anything for him.

Unfortunately the farm house where he had been destroyed by a tree that had fallen during a storm. He searched the remains of the house for anything valuable like money or stuff he could sell but he found nothing of value though he wasn't surprised, they were always as poor as dirt. After failing to find something useful or valuable he went to the local cemetery to pay respects to his father's grave. He and Abe didn't have the best relationship but he was still his father.

"Sorry Dad but we lost." He told the tombstone that bore his father's name. "But it doesn't really matter to me. I never wanted to join the army anyway but you forced me into it."

He ran a hand through his thick brown hair, stood by the grace for a few more minutes, then went to the church to pray. The priest who worked there recognized him as Abe's son and gave him a letter.

"Before your father died he told me to give this to you, should you return from the war alive." The priest said handing Homer an envelope.

Homer opened the envelope, unfolded the letter inside, and read the message written inside.

"Dear Homer,

If you're reading this then that means I'm dead and you survived the War.

Good thing I'm dead because if I wasn't I would have owed Jasper Beardly fifty dollars.

We made a bet over if you would live or not."

"Oh Dad." Homer huffed.

"Anyway I have somethings that I need to confess to you.

Number one I know that I wasn't the best father, granted you weren't the best son but I know that I was really hard on you and acted like I hated you."

"No kidding." Homer muttered.

"But the reason I was so hard on you was because I wanted you to be tough and hopefully you are. I know I've never said it but I love you son and I'm proud that you made it back.

Now for confession number 2. You have a half brother."

"Huh?!" Homer said confused.

"Twenty-one years ago before I married your mother I had a brief fling with a prostitute and I knocked her up in the process. She had a son which she gave up for adoption but I never saw him again.

I later found out that his name is Herbert Powell and that he also fought in the war. The Confederate side, thank God. No Union soldier could ever come from my loins.

So those are my confessions. Hope that you do better in life than I did.

Sign, Dad."

Homer didn't know what to think. He had a brother, he couldn't believe it. He had an older brother and he spent twenty years never knowing about him. He wondered why his father never told him about him sooner. Then again his parents were always fighting so he figured that if his mother knew that his father had cheated on her then she would have left him. Homer then realized that maybe he actually had a family.

It wasn't hard to find a record on Herbert Powell, he just told his former Lieutenant that Herbert was his brother and he wanted to know if he was okay. He found out that he was one of the soldiers who had been given the medal of honor. Or rather he would have been given the medal of honor if he had lived. Apparently he was shot and killed in battle.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The Lieutenant said. "If it's any consolation he died a hero."

Homer sighed in disappointment. He knew that it was too good to be true. Of course his brother would be dead which meant he didn't have anybody now. Still he was curious about his brother. What did he look like? What was his personality like? Did he have a family?

"Do you have a picture of him?"

The Lieutenant handed him somethings that had belonged to Herbert which included some letters and photograph of himself. Homer was surprised by how much he and Herbert resembled each other. He was a little slimmer than he was but he had the same chestnut brown hair, same black eyes, same face. They could have been twins.

"So will you be delivering the news to his fiance?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Fiance?"

"Yes Herb was engaged. Didn't you know?"

"Not really, we weren't all that close."

"Well everything you need to know is in those letters."

Reading the letters, Homer learned that Herb lived in Southern Springfield and was supposed to marry Marjorie Bouvier, who's father Clancy Bouvier was a land owner and she was due to inherit that land once she and Herb were married meaning Herb would have been rich for life.

"Am I to assume that you'll tell Miss Bouvier the awful news?" The Lieutenant asked.

"I guess so. Why not?"

"Good saves me one less family to upset. Oh and uh by the way you might wanna keep your face covered when you tell them the news."

"Why?"

"Well you look so much like Herb, everybody in Southern Springfield might think that you are Herb."

At that moment an idea went off in his head. He did look like Herb and anyone who didn't know him in Southern Springfield would think that he was Herb. Maybe, just maybe he could pass himself off as Herbert Powell, marry his fiance, and get rich off the land she would inherit. No, no that was sick and twisted he just couldn't marry his brother's fiance and steal what was rightfully his. So he thought of another idea, he would pass himself off as Herbert Powell, live at his place until he got a job and made enough money to live, skip town, and leave behind a note explaining everything. That plan didn't sound any better but he was desperate. He needed money and he needed a roof over his head so he decided that he would feel bad about it later.

With that decided he asked the Lieutenant for directions to Southern Springfield and was on his way.


	2. Chapter 2

Marjorie "Marge" Bouvier looked down at the ring on her finger and twisted it nervously while looking out the window of her house. It had been a month since the war ended and her fiance Herbert "Herb" Powell had not yet returned. The entire town had come to believe that he was dead and she was overcome with fear that it might be true. Now Marge and Herb weren't exactly in love, in fact they barley knew each other. The marriage had been arranged by her parents he was one of the two suitors her family had been pressuring her to marry. Her other suitor was her neighbor Artie Ziff, a very intelligent, ambitious, and charismatic young merchant but he was obnoxious, conceited, and narcissistic. Herb while he was also very intelligent, ambitious, and charismatic but he was also respectful, supportive, and kind...At least to those who weren't slaves. She figured that she could learn to love Herb in time so she chose him.

Artie had been courting Marge ever since Herb left for the war much to her annoyance and disgust. She spent most of her time in the house trying to avoid him but if she ever wanted to go to the market she would get up real early before and hurry there and back before Artie woke up. Her parents adored Herb and while her older sisters Patty and Selma approved of Herb they believed that she would have been better off choosing Artie and they kept helping him in his pursuit of her. Now she knew that if Herb was dead then her family would be pushing her into Artie's perverted arms.

"Good morning Marge." Artie stopped her as she was getting water from the well.

"Good morning Artie." She greeted politely. "What brings you by?"

"You know why I'm here. Marry me Marge."

"Artie I've given you my answer, I've chosen Herb and nothing will change my mind."

"Herb is dead Marge and he's not coming back. So who's going to take care of you?"

"I can take care of myself thank you very much and you don't know if Herb is dead."

"It's been a month and he hasn't even written to you. That should tell you something and besides you said that you would marry me if Herb didn't come back after the war ended."

"I said that I would consider it."

"So if Herb is dead you won't marry me?"

"I...I...I don't know. I guess. I just...I just need time."

"Marge I just don't want you to end up being a lonely spinster like your sisters. Face facts Herb is dead. You're better off marrying me."

"Miss Bouvier! Miss Bouvier!" A voice called. It was Carl Carlson a former slave of Herb's. He had won his freedom after the war but he had always been a good friend to Marge.

"What is it Carl?" She asked.

"It's Mr. Powell, Miss Bouvier. He's back."

"What?" Marge gasped.

"What?!" Artie shouted angrily.

"See for yourself."

Carl pointed over to the large group of townspeople, gathering around to greet a young man who looked very much like her fiance. Marge ran back inside the house and hurried upstairs into her room where she began to pretty herself up for the man she thought to be Herbert Powell.

...

Homer was surprised by how many people knew and we're fond of Herb. They all shook his hand, cheered for him, some even hugged him.

"Nice to have you back Herb." Said Lenny Lenord one of Herb's neighbors.

"Thank the Lord for your safe return." Reverend Lovejoy said.

"Now here's one soldier that those damn yankees didn't get." Said Willie McLavel.

"Herb. Good to see you my boy."

Homer was then hugged by a man in his late forties, early fifties with brown hair.

"Yeah good to see you too Mr..." Homer said.

"I'm deeply hurt boy. Don't you recognize you're future father in-law?"

"Oh! Mr. Bouvier! Nice to see you again sir. How's Marge?"

"She's been missing you ever since you left. Right now she's back at that house getting all dolled up for you."

"Then I better not keep her waiting."

Homer followed Mr. Bouvier up a hill and through a field until they reached a large manor house. Homer was instantly impressed, boy did his brother get lucky.

"I can't wait to the look on Margie's face when she sees you." Mr. Bouvier said as they entered the house. "Darling your war hero is home."

Homer was eager to see the woman who his brother had intended to marry. He was positive that if he was living in a house like this, due to inherit land, and have so many people like him then his fiance must be drop dead gorgeous.

"Here she is." Mr. Bouvier said.

Homer felt an instance about of fear strike him when two very tall, unattractive young women with smokey grey hair and a frightening faces came downstairs smoking.

"Oh God I'm engaged to two monsters!" He shouted.

"Oh Herb you jokester." Mr. Bouvier chuckled. "Those are my other daughters Patty and Selma. You remember them?"

"Oh yeah. Hi Patty, hi Selma." Homer greeted with a nervous grin.

"Hmmph." The two women grunted.

"Oh man if this what his other daughters look like then the one who's engaged must be revolting." Homer thought.

"Ah there you are sweetheart." Mr. Bouvier said with a smile.

Homer closed his eyes and gulped, preparing himself for the horrible sight he believed that he would be seeing. At long last he opened his eyes but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. At the top of the stairway stood a beautiful and physically attractive young woman with long, straight, waist length, blue hair. He couldn't believe his eyes, she was more beautiful than he ever imagined.

"Hello Herb." She said with a smile after descending down the stairway. "Welcome home."

Before Homer Jay Simpson had never believed in love at first sight but the very instant he laid eyes on Marjorie Bouvier Cupid's arrow was shot straight into his heart.

"Is something wrong?" She asked him after noticing how quiet he had become at the moment.

"No. It's just that... During those four years of war I forgot how beautiful you are."

Marge blushed. Herb had said that she was pretty before but he had never said things like that and was it her imagination or did he seem more handsome than remembered? And his eyes, they were the same color and shape but she couldn't help but feel like there was something different about them.

"You're probably tired Herb. Why don't you get some rest while I prepare dinner?" She said.

"Okay." He said looking stunned before going upstairs to find a place to rest.


	3. Chapter 3

A dinner was held in honor to celebrate "Herb's" return and all the neighbors were invited to dine with them. The food was delicious and Clancy bought the finest beer available for the occasion but Marge had a strange feeling that something wasn't right about "Herb". For one thing "Herb" was always staring at her as if he had never seen her before today. He was also much louder than she remembered and more clumsy and much, much, more of a drinker.

"So Herb what was the war like?" Lenny asked him.

"Cold, dirty, and a whole lot of blood shed." He answered. "I'm surprised that I actually made it. I was so sure that I was going to die."

"Another round Herb?" Offered Moe Szylack.

"Keep em coming Moe." He began to chug down as much beer as he could.

"Hey Herb, Carl's here to see you." Clancy said.

Marge froze nervously. Why was Carl here? He was a free man so why come back? Herb was absolutely against abolishing slavery and he had always been so mean to their slaves, especially Carl. She was terrified that Herb was going to go off at Carl or worse have his friends beat him up.

"What can I do for you Carl?" "Herb" asked.

"Sorry to bother you Mr. Powell but I-"

One of the guests tripped him and he fell on Homer's legs causing him to spill beer on himself.

"Oh no. Not again." Marge thought.

The last time Carl had spilled something on Herb, her fiance had gotten so mad that he slapped him.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Powell!" Carl trembled. "I didn't mean to! Honest!"

"It's okay." "Herb" said. "It was an accident. No harm done."

"Huh?" Marge thought in confusion.

"You're not mad sir?" Carl asked.

"That depends did you do it on purpose?"

"No sir! Never!"

"Okay then I'm not mad. Now what were you saying earlier?"

"Well I...I...I need to ask you for a favor." Carl was shaking like a leaf.

"A favor from your former master? You got a lot nerve negro." Moe said.

"What do you want?" "Herb" said.

"Well sir I'm a free man now and I...I want to get married but I don't have any money to take care of the woman I love and nobody else in town will give me a job so I was wondering could I... Could I please work for you...With pay?"

Marge held her breath. She knew all too well what her fiance's reaction would be. Not only would he say no but he would turn blood red in the face and start shouting profanity from the top of his lungs. Then he would most likely knock Carl down and beat him within an inch of his life.

"Herb please don't hurt him." Marge whispered to herself.

"Sure." "Herb" answered.

"What?!" All of the guests gasped while dropping their jaws in the process.

"I'm gonna need plenty of help managing the land so yes. You can work for me."

"Really Mr. Powell? With pay?" Carl asked.

"Yep."

"Oh thank you sir! Thank you so much! You won't regret this! I promise!"

Marge was stunned. He didn't do any of the things she thought he would do and not only that but he agreed to let Carl work for him with pay. This was not the Herb Powell she remembered.

"You sure you want that negro working for you with pay?" Moe asked "Herb".

"Yeah I'm gonna need help running the land."

"You know a lot of townsfolk won't like that." Willie said.

"So? I don't care what other people think."

"Since when?" Marge muttered under her breath. For as long as she had known Herb he had always, always cared about winning everyone's approval no matter what. The opinions of society always mattered more to him than the opinions of anyone else's. Even her own.

After dinner when it got late Marge went to get ready for bed. Her family was a real stickler for old traditions, in other words she and Herb would have seperate bedrooms until they were married. Before going to sleep she decided to go tell Herb goodnight.

He was in the bathroom and the door was open. He was in the middle of shaving. She walked in and just before she could say anything she saw something that made her go stiff. Six years ago, Herb was thrown off his horse and landed on a sharp spike which scratched up his back and left a nasty scar that was supposed to never heal. But the Herb she was looking out, who had his shirt off while he was shaving was completely bare backed. There was no scar anywhere. At once Marge realized something. This man was not Herbert Powell. She went to Herb's work place and pulled a pistol from his desk.

"Who are you?" She asked pointing the pistol at him.

"Are you crazy woman?!" He asked.

"Answer the question! Who are you?!"

"What are you talking about? I'm Herbert Powell."

"No you're not! You may look like him but you don't act like him! The Herbert Powell I remember would never let a former slave work for him with pay!"

"Well the...The union won! I can't keep slaves anymore! I need help running the land!"

"Where's the scar?"

"What scar?"

"The scar on your back! The one that you got from that spike! That one that would never heal!"

Homer's hands went behind his back.

"Do'h!" He grunted.

"I knew it! Now who are you? And how did you know Herb? And why do you look like him? Did you kill him? Did you kill him and then pay some doctor to make you look like him?!"

"Okay calm down. Just put down the gun and I'll talk."

"No! You answer my questions and then I put down the gun!"

"Alright, alright, whatever works for you."

"Now how did you know Herb?"

"He's my brother."

"Liar! He was an only child!"

"He was adopted right? Well he and I had the same biological father. That's why we look alike. He didn't know about me and I didn't find out about him until after he died."

"So he is dead?"

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Homer. Homer Jay Simpson, I'm from Western Springfield."

"Why on Earth would you try to pass yourself off as Herb? Do you have any idea how sick and cruel that is?"

"I know! I know! But...I was desperate. After the war I had nothing. My parents are dead, they left me no money, my house was destroyed, I didn't know what else to do. Look I wasn't going to marry you, I was just going to stay until I made enough money to move to another place and get another job. But I need a place to sleep until then."

"Would you have told me the truth before you left?"

"No actually I was going to fake my death and leave behind a suicide note claiming that PTSD drove me to it."

"You're insane!"

"Please don't kill me! And please don't turn me over to the authorities! I'll leave! Right now!"

"You should be ashamed of yourself! You took advantage of other people's feelings! And because of you I had false hope that I could avoid a miserable marriage!"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Herb wasn't the only suitor in my life. My parents were pressuring me to marry him or our neighbor Artie Ziff. I chose Herb because at least I could learn to love him in time but if he died in the war then that means my family is going to force me to marry Artie but I just can't! And thanks to you for a brief moment I thought I had escaped that awful possibility."

"Well maybe you still can."

"What do you mean? You're not Herb."

"But no one else knows that and they won't if you don't tell."

"You expect me to keep up you're little charade and lie? You're crazier than I thought."

"Look we don't actually have to get married. We'll just be engaged for awhile and then I'll fake suicide and leave."

"Uh-huh and how does that prevent me from being married to Artie?"

"Well the guy has to move on sometime. He can't wait forever. Look I wouldn't do this if I wasn't desperate but you have to help me. Please!"

Marge thought for a moment. On one hand she didn't like to lie and she was sure this man was nuts. But on the other hand she did feel sorry for him and she didn't want to marry Artie.

"I know I'm going to regret this but...Fine I'll go along with it."

"Thank you."

"But don't get any ideas okay?"

"Don't worry I'll just work, eat, and sleep. I won't make you like me or try to touch your goodies. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Homer woke up to find Marge in the kitchen cooking eggs, bacon, and sausage. His mouth watered and he licked his chops hungrily.

"Good morning beautiful." He smiled and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped.

"Sorry!" He said removing his arm from her shoulder. "Breakfast smells good. Is that for me?"

"No this is for me. I only make breakfast like this for me and the people I love. Liars and deceivers like you get gruel, cold gruel."

She handed him a bowl of sticky, pasty, cold gruel.

"Okay I understand that you're mad at me and I don't blame you but can't we at least try to be friends?"

"I don't think so. I don't even wanna live under the same roof as you and the only reason I'm keeping your dirty little secret is because A. I don't want to marry Artie Ziff and B. I don't want you to hang."

"Well I can see- Wait a minute! Hang?! What do you mean hang?!"

"I mean if the townsfolk found out who you really were and what you did, they would form a lynch mob and hang you."

Homer put his hand to his neck and gulped.

"But lucky for you I don't believe in killing someone even if it's to punish them for a crime. In my opinion God should decide when you die."

"Well I...I really appreciate you doing this for me Marge and I swear I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah right, just eat your gruel and get outside. Lenny and Carl are expecting you to help them get started on the plantation."

"Right...And how exactly do I do that?"

"What do you mean? Don't you know how to work farmland?"

"Oh I tried once."

(Cut away to ten year old Homer chasing cows around a barn and breaking a lantern which sets fire to the straw inside and burns down the whole barn.)

"It didn't end well."

"You mean to tell me you were going to pass yourself off as a land owner and you don't even know how to work the land you own? You're not just crazy and a liar, you're stupid too."

"Hey! That's mean!...But you might have a point. Do you know how to work the land?"

"No. I wanted to learn but my father wouldn't let me. I only know how to cook, clean, and sew. I'm afraid you're on own."

"Oh crap."

So after dumping his gruel he went outside and met up with Lenny and Carl.

"So what should we do first Mr. Powell?" Carl asked.

"Uh..Uh...Uh well..I've been away for so long I uh...I kind of forgot how things usually go around here. Why don't you jog my memory Carl?"

"Well Mr. Powell you usually start by plowing the fields."

"Okay and could you remind me how I did that?"

"Sir all you have to do is hook the plow up to the donkey."

"Gotcha."

Homer went to the barn where the donkey was and hooked him up but he was a rather stubborn animal.

"Come on move you stupid jackass!" Homer grunted while pushing against the donkey's hide. The grey animal only ignored him and started to graze. "Move it!"

He slapped the donkey's butt. The donkey brayed and kicked Homer hard sending him flying into a fence where a big, mean, bull was and as soon as he saw Homer he dragged his hooves in the dirt and charged after him, horns ready. Next thing Homer knew he was running around in the fence, screaming while being chased by that bull.

"Herb do you think you can jump back over the fence?" Lenny asked.

"No!"

"What on earth is going on?" Marge asked running over after hearing all the screaming.

"Mr. Powell got knocked into the bull fence!" Carl said.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Just leave everything to me Marge." Artie said. "I will fight the bull and save your buffoon of a fiance."

"I heard that!" Homer shouted.

Artie then took Lenny's red jacket right off of his back.

"Hey that's mine!" Lenny said.

"Buy yourself a new one."

Artie then held the jacket over the fence and whistled for the bull. The bull turned it's attention toward Artie and went full speed ahead for him but it only ended up hitting the fence. Luckily it was distracted long enough for Homer to get over the other side of the fence.

"Thanks Artie." Homer panted.

"What's the matter Herb? Scared of a wimpy bull? If you can't even take him down then how do you expect to take care of Marge."

"That bull wasn't exactly wimpy Artie." Lenny said.

"Yeah it's almost as big as a house." Carl said.

"That bull doesn't scare me and I'll prove it to you."

Artie continued to flash Lenny's jacket inside the fence .

"Uh Artie I don't think you should keep teasing the bull." Marge said.

"Don't worry Marge, I'll protect you."

Artie continued to tease and tease the bull making it angrier and angrier but this time the resulting end was the bull breaking through the fence.

"Ahh! I'm too rich to die!"

Artie dropped the jacket and ran back to his house. Homer, Marge, Lenny, and Carl dispersed, ran off in different directions, and hid. The bull lost it's temper and headed for town.

"We gotta catch that thing! Quick get the horses!" Lenny said.

The three men and woman got on the horses and rode after the bull. The angry, horned animal was running a muck through town. The townsfolk were screaming, running, and doing everything they could to avoid getting hit by the bull.

"Has anyone seen my son?!" Screamed a woman trying to make his way through the crowd of panicking people. "Billy! Billy!"

A five year old boy was sitting in the middle of the square playing with his ball and blissfully unaware that the bull was heading straight for him.

"Oh no! Billy!" The woman desperately tried to reach her son but she was stuck in the crowd. "Please! Somebody help him!"

When little Billy finally noticed the bull coming for him he became so scared that he couldn't move.

"Mommy!" He screamed.

The bull's horns was just centimeter's away from Billy's body when out of no where Homer ran across the square and grabbed the boy out of the way. He then handed him to his mother, pulled out Lenny's red jacket, and started shaking it around while shouting. "Hey wooly bully! Over here!"

The bull exploded in a fit of raged and took off to ram Homer but the young man lead him straight into another fence, one stronger than the one back at the plantation and quickly slammed the fence door shut and jumped out of the fence.

"You alright Herb?" Lenny asked him.

"I'm fine though I might have soiled myself."

"You saved my boy." The woman said gratefully. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Homer said.

"Mr. Powell you have got some gutts." Carl said. "Not everyone would have been brave enough to save that kid. You know that bull could've killed you if you hadn't of run fast enough?"

"What can I say? I have a soft spot for kids."

The crowd cheered and applauded Homer for his heroism. Even Marge was impressed, she couldn't believe that Homer had risked his life to save that child. She didn't know anyone in the entire town who would be willing to do that. It was so brave and kind and a little attractive. Wait a minute she can't be attracted to him. He's a liar and a deceiver, definitely not the kind of man that she would ever be attracted to. But still maybe...Maybe he wasn't all bad. Maybe living under the same roof as him wouldn't be so bad. He most certainly was not a suitable husband but he may just be a suitable friend.


	5. Chapter 5

Homer had gotten a few injuries from his run in with the bull so Marge decided to tend to his wounds.

"Ow! Ow! Oh the pain! It's unbearable! Just put me out of my misery!" Homer shouted.

"I haven't touched you yet." Marge said.

"Oh..."

"Goodness how did you get through the war?"

"Well I have to confess I mostly hid on the battlefield. I wasn't really the army type."

"Then why did you join?"

"I didn't want to but my father threatened to disown me if I refused. I come from a long line of war heroes, my father was too old to fight in this one so he forced me into to keep the honor in our family legacy or at least that's how he put it."

"He sounds pretty harsh."

"He was."

"Was he your adopted father?"

"No I came from his loins. I'm the kid he kept though I probably would have been better off if he had left me at an orphanage, if you ask me my brother dodged a bullet."

"Sounds like it."

"What was my brother like?"

"You don't know?"

"No. Like I said I didn't find out about him til after he died."

"Well he was very smart, charismatic, charming, polite, respectful, ambitious and he really wanted to serve his country the best way he could."

"Wow, if we didn't look alike you'd never know we were brothers."

"What do you mean?"

"Well he's the total opposite of me. I'm dumb as rock, big words confuse me, I have the attention span of a rodent, I drink too much, I fled from the battle field, I don't like work, and I think I have an eating disorder."

"Huh...Well if you ask me it takes a lot of courage to admit your faults like that."

"Really? My father always said never admit your faults, just deny. Anyway Herb sounded like a really great man."

"Well he had his faults but yes he was a great man."

"You must've really loved him."

"Actually I didn't know Herb long enough to love him."

"You didn't love him?"

"I loved him but not as a woman loves a man."

"Then why the hell were you going to marry him?"

"Because it was either him or Artie and I actually liked Herb so I accepted his proposal and convinced myself that I could learn to love him in time."

"You sound like my mother when I asked her why she married my father."

"If I may ask what was your mother like?"

"She treated me better than my old man did but...You know that whole women's suffrage movement thing?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Well she got into that, so much so that she wasn't around a lot. She was always saying that her fellow women needed her but I needed her too. And then she and dad started fighting."

"If you don't mind me asking what did they fight about?"

"Oh the usual. She was mad at him for being controlling and not supporting her dreams, he was mad at her for not being around for me or him, it was non stop. My parents loved me and they did their best but...I wouldn't say that I had a happy childhood."

"I'm sorry. I kind of know where you're coming from."

"Oh really? Did your parents screw you up?"

"No. No not my parents but my sisters...I love my sisters, I really do but during my childhood they would bully me a lot and with my father always working on the land and my mother out having tea with the other wives, there was no one around to stop them."

"Didn't you ever snitch?"

"No because I thought they would hate me if I got them into trouble. Selma wasn't as bad as Patty in fact she was a lot nicer to me when Patty wasn't around but when they were together they just...Pushed me around. They didn't bully me anymore of course but I wouldn't say that I had a happy childhood either."

"So we're in the same boat huh?"

"I guess so."

"But I had my happy moments. Like in the Summer we would go stay at our summer house by the beach. The five us all together and my sisters never did one mean thing to me."

"I went to the beach with my family in the summer too."

"Did you have a summer house there?"

"No but we had a summer shack. It was small, cramped, and had leaks but those trips there were the happiest moments of my life. Mom and Dad stopped fighting, Dad would ease up, and Mom...Mom was there."

"What beach did you go to?"

"Barnicle Bay."

"That's where I went. Did you ever try the yum-yum fish there?"

"It was one of my favorite things to eat in the world. But what I liked the best were the fireworks they shot off at the beach."

"Me too. You know to this day I still love fireworks because they remind me of a wonderful night that took place at the beach."

"Me too."

"It was my first kiss." They both said at the same time.

For a moment they both went quiet and looked at each other nervously. After five minutes of silence Marge asked.

"What date was it?"

"I...I don't know uh...July?...July...4th! Now I remember. July 4th 1855."

"Oh my goodness."

"What?"

"That was the day I got my first kiss."

"What a weird coincidence."

"Yeah...Coincidence." She thought for a moment. "By any chance did you...Did you ever keep something from your trips?"

"Like what?"

"Like...Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing...Nothing at all."

She started to clean his wounds and then she bandaged them up.

"You know I'm going to the post office tomorrow...Would you like go with me?"

"Sure but why do you want me to come? I thought you hated me?"

"Well I...I'm not all that fond of you but I can be civil."

"Huh?"

"I don't like you but since we're living together and you haven't tried anything under handed I guess I could be a little more friendly to you."

"Okay."


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Homer and Marge went into town to go to the post office and mail some letter's to Marge's relatives. It was still pretty early when they finished so Marge decided to get some shopping done. They stopped by the market place and bought some groceries.

"Are you going to cook dinner tonight?" Homer asked.

"Yes." She answered.

"Are you going to let me eat the dinner or just feed me gruel again."

"Well that depends."

"On what?"

"If I start to like you."

"Okay."

"Oh my goodness!"

"What? What is it?"

"Oh they're beautiful! Just look at them!"

Homer looked over to see a bar opening up and serving up several mugs of cold, frothy, beers.

"Oh yeah they are beautiful. You wanna a mug?"

"Not the beer! Those!" Marge pointed over to the window shop where they had just put a pearl necklace on display. "Aren't they wonderful?"

"I guess."

"Oh I've always wanted a pearl necklace like that. Almost all the women in my family wear pearl necklaces."

"Is it like a family tradition or something?"

"No but I really wish I had one."

After getting the rest of the groceries they went started to head home when they were stopped by Mr. Burns. The richest man in Springfield and a very greedy and cold hearted old, oil tycoon.

"Good morning Mr. Burns." Marge greeted politely.

"Good morning Miss Bouvier, pardon the intrusion but I would like to have a word with Mr. Powell."

"What for?" Homer asked.

"Oh nothing to be worried about I assure you. Just a conversation between two wealthy men."

Homer gulped nervously. He didn't know anything about Mr. Burns except he was rich but apparently Herb was an associate of his. Homer hoped and prayed that he wouldn't say or do anything that would give him away. Mr. Burns invited Homer into his office and offered him a drink which he accepted.

"So what did you want to talk about sir?" Homer asked.

"Relax Powell, we're just two friends sharing a drink, there's no need to be so tense."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Tell me Herb how are things?"

"Fine."

"Must be nice to return from the war in one piece and I congratulate you on your impending marriage to Miss Bouvier."

"Thanks."

"Once you two are married you'll own her family's land and almost be as rich as me."

"I guess."

"Though I hear that you're letting a former slave work for you with pay. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Powell you are aware that society does not approve of men like us paying a negro."

"The war's over Mr. Burns, I need help managing the land. Carl is getting married, he needs money, he's a hard worker, I don't see a problem."

"The war maybe over Mr. Powell but there are some things that should never change."

"Uh...Sorry but you kind of lost me there."

"There are individuals like myself who think that you are making a big mistake."

"By paying a man to work for me?"

"Mr. Powell what exactly did those Northerns do to you in that war?"

"They tried to kill me."

"No what I mean is what did they do to your personality? Your views?"

"Nothing."

"From what I remember Mr. Powell you believed that slaves having equal rights was ridiculous."

"Can't a guy change his mind? Anyway if that's all you wanted to talk about I think I'm gonna go."

"Very well but a word of advice. Our town has certain rules that we expect everyone to follow and when someone doesn't abide by those rules well...I can't be held responsible for what happens to you."

"That sounds more like a threat than advice Mr. Burns."

"Really? Oh I guess it is. Well then I suggest you take my threat very seriously." He sneered. "Smithers, show this man the door."

"Yes sir." His assistant said pointing toward the door that lead out of the office.

He then met up with Marge and they went back to the house.

"What did Mr. Burns want?" Marge asked him.

"Honestly I have no idea but I think he threatened me."

"Threatened you? Are you sure?"

"Well he worded it in a way that I couldn't understand but yeah I'm sure."

"Why would he threaten you?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's jealous because I'm so handsome."

"Yeah right." Marge said. "If you ask me that man is a monster. Everyone is afraid of him because he's rich and can use his money to make bad things happen to people."

"What kind of bad things?"

"I don't really know but apparently he's responsible for Andrew's disappearance."

"Who's Andrew?"

"Exactly."

"Oh. He's one of those kind of guys. Um...Marge should I leave town?"

"You can but you still don't have any money."

"Good point."

"By the way when are you going to fake your death and leave? My mother's been pressuring me to go out and buy a wedding dress and I don't want to do that because I'll just end up taking it back."

"Well I have to get paid first. When is your dad going to pay me?"

"By the end of next week, if you do well with the crops."

"But I don't know how to farm."

"Then I don't know what to tell you."

"Oh come one you gotta know something."

"I guess I know a few things on the subject."

"So you'll help me?"

"I suppose."

"Oh thank you Marge! You're a saint you know that."

"But I can't promise anything, I doubt that it will do you any good."

"It's better than nothing. I'm just glad you're actually going to help me."

"Calm down. You act like I'm the first person who's ever wanted to help you with something."

"That's because you are."

"Don't lie."

"But I'm not 're pretty much the first person who's ever wanted to help me. Every other time I've asked for help from people they just laugh in my face."

"Really?"

"Yeah but I've gotten used to it."

"Oh." She started to feel pity for him.

"So um...Do you like me enough to give me something to eat other than gruel?"

"Actually...I do."

"Whoo-hoo!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Stupid dirty hoe!" Homer shouted at the gardening tool which he was having difficulty using.

"What's wrong Homer?" Marge asked.

"You said that the lines in the dirt had to be straight right?"

"They're called furrows Homer."

"Whatever, they have to be straight right? Well this dumb hoe keeps making them crooked."

"That's because you're holding it wrong. Here let me show you."

She put her arms around Homer and her hands went over his own as she grasped the garden tool. For a moment she felt herself blush at the close contact but quickly shook it off.

"You have to hold it firmly when you run it through the soil." She told him. "Like this."

She guided him as he dragged the hoe in the garden soil to make straight furrows, perfect for planting seeds.

"You have soft hands." He told her.

"Homer focus on the garden."

But Marge herself found it hard to focus on gardening. The whole time she helped Homer, she desperately tried to ignore the strange feeling she received from their skin touching.

"There." She said when they finished. "All done. Now I need to go inside and get started on lunch."

"Okay."

Later when she finished cooking lunch and went outside to inform Homer that it was ready, she found him struggling to get his foot out of the plow.

"How did you get your foot stuck in the plow?" She asked him.

"I don't know. It just happened." He continued to jerk his leg but his foot refused to come out.

"I'll help."

She grabbed hold of Homer and pulled.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" He shouted.

"I'm sorry but your foot just can't stay in there. Help me out here."

She pulled on him as hard as she could and he jerked his leg as hard as he could. In the end they managed to get his foot out but the force caused them both to lose their balance and go tumbling down a hill.

"D'oh! Eep! Ow! Oh! Oof!"

Those were the noises they made as rolled over each other down the grassy hill. Eventually the fall ended but it ended with Marge on her back and Homer lying on top of her. Their eyes met and for a moment they became silent and blushed. Marge's heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, she had never felt such an intense heart beat.

"I...I...I." Poor Homer was sweating like a dinner in church. "I...I didn't plan that."

"It's okay. I know. It...It...It was an accident."

"Yeah. I'm...I'm really clumsy."

"So am I."

They never broke eye contact once.

"Wow." He said.

"Wow what?" She asked.

"You have really pretty eyes."

"Th-Thank you." She giggled. "Homer can you get off of me?"

"Oops! Sorry!"

He quickly got off of her and held out his hand to her to help her up. She took hold of his hand and he pulled her up but he accidentally pulled her to his chest. Homer's face turned beet red due to feeling her soft hands on his hard chest.

"I'm sorry." She said stepping away from him. "So...Lunch is ready. Let's go eat."

"Whoo-hoo!" He cheered excitedly causing her to giggle again.

So as the days went by, Homer eventually learned how to work the fields. Sure he made a few mistakes...Okay he made a lot of mistakes but he never stopped trying and Marge helped him in every way she could. Before long the two became very good friends and Marge found herself becoming more fond of him. Whenever she was around him he always found someway to make her smile and/or laugh. He was a really funny young man and sweet too.

There was one problem however. Marge's sisters Patty and Selma were noticing the differences between Homer and Herb's personalities. Like how "Herb" wasn't as smart or sophisticated as they remembered him being. And it wasn't just "Herb's" behavior that they noticed had changed. Marge was acting peculiar too. Her personality was the same but she seemed to be awfully happy with "Herb." Soon they became very suspicious about their sister's fiance.

"I've heard that war changes a man but I don't think it could change a man that much." Selma said as she and Patty observed Homer trying to weed the garden with a rake. "You think a bullet hit him in his brain on the battlefield or something?"

"No that's not it." Patty said. "Something's not right."

"Marge has been acting different too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well have you noticed that when she's around Herb she's always giggling or blushing? She wasn't like that around him before but then again they are engaged so maybe she's starting to fall for him."

"Hmmm...Maybe. Selma I think we better keep a close eye on Herb and try to figure out why he's acting so different. He might be hiding a dirty secret."

"If he is, is it really our place to expose it?"

"Yes because if we find something wrong with him, Marge will dump him and marry Artie Ziff."

"Good point. Do you think we should tell Marge about our suspicions?"

"Not yet. For now we'll just watch. Watch and wait."

Now while Patty and Selma approved of Marge's impending marriage Herbert Powell they had preferred that she had chosen Artie Ziff because he was richer than Herb and more handsome than him... Well they thought that he was more handsome than Herb. At first they respected their sister's choice until they saw how different her fiance was acting. Now they were determined to figure out what had changed between Marge and "Herb", why they had changed, and if "Herb" really was the man she should be marrying.


End file.
